


Sober Up

by ActonBlack



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Inspired by Music, Season 3 Somewhere, Self-Harm, Streagan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 10:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14735579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActonBlack/pseuds/ActonBlack
Summary: Richard wakes up with a splitting headache, he's late, and Ruby is not happy.It's got a happy ending, non-traditional self-harm, and alcohol abuse. They don't "overcome" these issues in this fic, but they get through the black tapes drama. Happy ending.It's fluff for sure, I think it's got angst too.





	Sober Up

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta’d but I did read over it once or twice to make the ideas a tad more cohesive.
> 
> I also only have time to write when I'm extremely tired, so I could have missed things.

The room was still spinning when Richard Strand opened his eyes. Above him the bathroom ceiling seemed to be miles away, as he felt the Earth rotate beneath him. On the edge of the counter above him, was his cell phone, vibrating furiously. Beside him, a nearly empty fifth of whiskey lay turned on its side, forgotten about. Head pounding, he wrinkled his nose at the smell of vomit permeating the bathroom. It only served to remind him of his nausea, and seconds later, he resumed the task he could only assume he spent the later part of his evening doing. The cell phone then stops vibrating, but only for a second, as it starts again. This time the vibrations are supported by a sound signaling the battery is low. 

After dry heaving into the toilet for a few minutes, he hauls his body upward from the floor careful not to slip on a small puddle of an overturned beer. This wasn’t something that he’d been able to practice in college. But as his real demons started to surround him after Coralee’s disappearance it started to be a regular occurence. Ruby, had been the first person to discover his ailment. 

After a weekend of binge drinking anything he had in his apartment, he didn’t show up to the office. Ruby never knew him to be late to anything, thankfully due to his dedication to keeping his struggle a secret. But after no contact on Monday, Ruby went to his apartment herself to check on him. He’d left his door unlocked, and collapsed on the floor from severe dehydration, there he lay.

That day had cemented exactly how much Ruby held a strangely motherly figure over him. “Hello, I’m not where I’m supposed to be, I know” were the words that he forced out of his mouth quickly to an angry Ruby after her fourteenth call that morning. 

“Richard Strand! You scared the daylights out of me! We’ve talked about this!” Ruby began her verbal lashing over his drinking habits. It’d been the 6th or 7th time this month, and he could only assume that the only reason she knew, was that he was currently missing his meeting with a certain journalistic reporter. 

Somehow, he’d completely forgotten that he had arranged a lunch appointment with Alex. It wasn’t like he was a few minutes late, but it was two in the afternoon. Which means he’d missed it by three hours. Ruby continued his assault on his ear as he relocated his hungover frame to his bedroom to get changed. Catching his face in the frame above his dresser, he saw the way his shirt hung on him gauntly, and the bags under his eyes shadowed his face. 

“I’ve rearranged for her to be at your father's home in thirty minutes Dr. Strand.” He froze.

Thirty minutes was no time at all to hide the evidence of his nights escapades. Alex couldn’t know this about him. It’d ruin his professional image, if she aired it on her podcast. A stinging broke out in his chest as he remembered her breach of trust from the previous weeks. It’d made his stomach churn uneasily as he quickly began pulling on his dress shirt and slacks.   
“I’ll order you some delivery, so that you’ll have something in your stomach for the meeting. Something salty, don’t worry.” It made his stomach swirl with hunger and disgust simulatenously as he thought about eating anything. “I’ll check on you sometime this evening, so you remember to eat. ” 

Strand had no doubt that the mischievous journalist would show up early to her appointment with him, in an attempt to catch him in a bind. Record something new, something dramatic, for her podcast. It was unnerving listening to such a young person narrate his life. When he was young, his friends would always joke about who they’d have write their biographies. Richie had never predicted it would be a woman that would inadvertently ruining his life. They’d always guessed it’d be a nerd from a museum to do his. Somehow, this was still better.

In a whirlwind of fury and soap, he attacked the alcohol stench in his father’s kitchen. Seemingly successful, he moved back into the main bathroom and decided that it was a lost cause. Shutting the bathroom door, with all of its contents still laying on the floor inside, he formulated a narrative. He was selling the house, surely a bathroom remodel would be a good excuse. In the same thought, he decided he’d remain tight lipped about anything regarding his mornings absence, bar an insincere apology.

Disappointment still lay heavy in his chest. Alex’s trust violation had plagued his the entire weekend. He’d trusted her, against his initial decision, and it’d gone wrong. So wrong, that now he felt entirely wrong about being in her presence anytime soon. 

Regardless, he carried on, quickly hiding the evidence as he moved about the house. 

That’s when the doorbell rang. It was a loud, earthy tone, that sounded akin to large wooden chimes. Alex had arrived. His neck felt hot with embarrassment as he moved to the front door. When he opened the door, he almost didn’t recognize the shadowed figure in front of him. She wore a dark hoodie, and her eyes were devoid of their normal curious charm. Ms. Alex Reagan, was normally well put together. This was the farthest thing from put together, he could have ever imagined.

The discontent he held earlier melted away, and it was immediately replaced with worry. Over the course of the investigation she began to look worse and worse as time continued. But this was new low. Dare he say it, but she looked just as hungover as he did. Everything was frozen as they no doubt took in the others awful appearances. 

Her hair stuck to her forehead just above her eyes, and her normal tote was replaced with a dark backpack that he figured she hadn’t used since college. How much lower could they get?

“Hello Ms. Reagan.” She’d been Alex to him to a while now, and he’d selfishly hoped to see her lip twinge with discomfort at the use of her surname. The quirky woman he knew seemed to be missing. Even with the quite obvious jab, she seemed unfazed.

“Hey,” she took that as her cue to enter the house. She’d been there numerous times, and so she started moving the kitchen. Strand could have been wrong, but he could have sworn Alex was walking with a very subtle limp. Now he was worried. 

“I’m sorry I missed our meeting this morning, something came up.” 

Alex raised her hand, that had previously hung beside her curved hips. It bent at the wrist in a dismissive motion, as she took off her bag and rested it on the chair. She removes her laptop from the stuffed backpack. It was almost like she was moving entirely on auto pilot. Like an ant following their previous tracks, Alex sat in her usual chair, and fixed her pony tail. “I want to end the podcast Richard.” 

He falters, her statement shaking him to his core as he nearly falls into the chair across from her. The expression on her face has turned deadly, confirming the implications of just how serious her previous statement had been. Suddenly he felt like his body was stuck in molasses, as she parted her lips to speak. “I’m tired of hurting you, and everyone around us. Too many people are dead because of what I’ve decided to carelessly post online.”

“Alex, none of that has been your fault-” Protests rise in his throat as he begins to take inventory of the situation. Exactly what happened over the weekend that caused the incredibly driven young woman in front of him to fall to the pressures of the several agents against her?

“Oh shove it Strand, if I had only just kept to myself, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Alex, we wouldn’t have found Coralee without you either.” Something stirs behind her eyes, something that he mistakes for jealousy at the mention of his again missing wife’s name. This happened whenever he brought her name up in conversation outside of the investigation. Richard could only give Alex props for how easily she turned her professional atmosphere on and off. The only issue was just how far off her casual personality strayed toward the line of Journalistic Integrity. And their, mistakes, together. A series of gentle accidental touches and glances run through his mind at blinding speed. 

“Maddie would still be alive.” 

It’s haunted Alex since she found Maddie and that horrific scene. Once, over a bottle of wine, she admitted that Maddie was one of the things keeping her up at night. Alex was a great storyteller, and the way she described Maddie in her dreams, as some twisted spider-like creature chasing her through his home was enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “She might have survived yes, or she may not have.”  
Alex’s eyes shown with a challenge, “Strand, someone was in my apartment, they sent me video of me sleeping.” His heart hammers in his chest, that was certainly alarming. How could something like that happen? Silently, he formulates that she left her door unlocked, but deep down, he doesn’t believe it.

“Stay here then.” It’s simple, it almost seems like a challenge after he says it, but he doesn’t add anything else to the statement. The rooms temperature seems to be climbing and it is overwhelming to his senses. 

“That isn’t why I’m here Doctor,” her voice is laced with a tad of spit that could actually be venom if he gets too close. Strand is sweating now, heart squeezing in his chest. The removal of his surname from the title was a new low for their battle of passive aggressive name calling. It made him angry, but also extremely upset. Was this the end of his interactions with Alex? Would this be the last time he saw her? 

It was now clear that Alex was a kamikaze, aimed directly at everything they’d worked so hard on. That’s when he decided to derail the train before it reached the station. “Alex, why were you limping.” He eyes grow wide with shock, and that’s when he knows he is onto something. He’d never meant to stumble in on Nic’s private conversation with Amalia about Alex’s, habits. But he had, and with a quick recall of that memory, he knew why she was limping. “Alex, take off your shoes and stay a while.” He hoped that the switch to her given name would remove the bite from his order.

“Wha- what why should I do that?” Fear, genuine fear, crosses Alex’s face.

“Alex, do it.” 

Suddenly the fear melts into defeat, and then into weakness.

He pleads with her, “Alex.”

So she does. The bottom of her white socks, are lined with a thick red color, at first he thinks it’s only dye, until the jagged line of color isn’t straight. Then he knows. It sends his mind reeling. Haemophobia. Something he’d developed in his childhood, after he’d found the boy by the river. It makes his mouth start to taste metallic and the room is spinning. After swallowing shallowly, he puts on an emotional mask. Any sign of weakness on his part, could send Alex spiraling further out, and back to her apartment, alone.

Strand keeps it together, and relocates to the floor in front of Alex. His hands gently grasp her sock at the ankle, metallic smells finding his nostrils. Pulling it over her foot, she lets out a small hiss as her face twists in discomfort. Regret traces her face, and he cups the back of her calf in an attempt of comfort. He raises her leg to an angle he can see the bottom. It’s littered with neat long gashes on the arch of her foot. 

His heart aches for the young woman. Punishment, he’s familiar with that need.

He removes her other shoe, and pleasantly finds that it is only littered with fading white scars. That’s when he throws his caution to the wind. He may be mad at her, but it definitely doesn’t erase the two years of building emotion he’s gained for the small framed woman in front of him. Easily, he lifts her into his arms, and begins the ascent up the stairs. This isn’t her first time up the stairs, and he’s completely forgotten about the bathroom until the door is open and the smell hits his nose. “Shit.” 

“Richard what the fuck.” It’s clear, he has no explanation, there is no way she cannot tell what happened the night before. “How much did you drink this weekend?” Her eyes are ablaze with assumptions, and judgement. 

He spins quickly and heads to the bathroom up the hall. She begins breathing heavily and her body begins quaking. 

It isn’t til he’s seated her on the bathroom counter, and he is seated on the edge of the tub applying antibiotics to her foot, before either speaks again. “Is that something you do often?” Concern fills her eyes, and guilt blossoms in his chest. He hadn’t meant to make this conversation about him. But it’s slowly moved to that point, and he struggles to find her a good answer.

He decides that he owes her the truth, especially after everything that she’s unwrapped tonight before his eyes. “Yes.” The admission defuses the fire in her eyes, and she suddenly returns to the empty shell of a person she was when she arrived. “Before I met you, it’s since, gotten better.” His chest aches more with each word, and her eyes again grow wide with realization. 

“Since when?”

“After you started spending time here, with me.” It clear now that he’s being stupid. This isn’t something that you admit to the woman ruining your professional career.

But it is something you admit to the woman that you’re in love with. You admit this sort of thing, to the woman, that you have slowly fallen in love with for an expanse of two years. Her jaw falls open, and she begins to chew at her lip as she decides on her next words. The lights in the bathroom are on the wall behind her head. The dim lighting in the room crowns her from his angle. The lights gently brightening her silhouette of her face. 

“What are you saying Richard?” Her hands contort into a nervous ball in her lap. The strand of hair she was playing with curling back beside her ear. 

“You’re not doing anything wrong, Alex. You’re changing my life.” There, he’s said it, he’s admitted to himself that Alex Reagan not only isn’t ruining his life, but that she might as well be saving it. Sure, they’ve had some misgivings, big ones if he’s honest. But it’s nothing like the last woman he loved. 

Silence is her answer. He doesn’t blame her, it’s been a long night, and her mental stability is clearly at risk at the moment. 

“Let’s get you some rest,” he stands and moves to pick her into his arms again. She lets him, this time wrapping her arms around his neck for support, somewhere, he lost his jacket, which leaves him in a blue dress shirt, with rolled sleeves. 

He considers the guest bedroom, but the lack of light there make him pass the room as he heads to his own. It’s the other, slightly larger guest room on the second floor. The recognition of her face is blinding as her cheeks heat up. “Don’t worry, it’s just brighter in here.” Somehow this only deepens the color on her face, as they enter the room. 

Richard sets her thinning frame on the bed, careful to set her so that her feet do not brush the ground. She sheds her hoodie, revealing a loose shirt that may have once been well formed to her. It was then that the gravity of their investigation hit him. This was unhealthy. They both were unhappy, unhealthy, and grasping at sanity, barely together. 

“If you decided to stop doing the show. I’ll support you Alex,” Richard then formulates one of the most important sentences of his life. “But, I’ve realized something in the last two years, that you helped me find.” Alex’s face shows anticipation, and he doesn’t realize that she grasping his hand from her place beside him. “I’ve found love again, Alex.” Betrayal almost reaches her eyes, and his heart gets caught in his chest, but he finishes the sentence before that light bulb breaks. “It may not be a burden you need, but I’m sure you want it. Will you help me sober up? Will you help me feel something again?” 

Wonder is the only emotion he finds in the seas of her eyes, and her grip on his hands becomes stronger. 

ALEX:

Alex would think she was dreaming if it weren’t for her lack of dreaming in the last months on end. His last words strike her heart with emotion so raw that she nearly has an out of body experience. She expects Simon Reese to suddenly appear and shove her back into her mundane vessel. “Will you help me sober up Will you help me feel something again? Will you let me take care of you?” The last one hits her hard. She’d expected him to immediately ship her off to Simon Reese’s former residence the second her shoes came off. 

But instead, he’s offering his trust, something she never thought she’d be given again. He’s offering his hand. Suddenly her world is spun on its axis, this wasn’t how she expected this meeting to go. It probably wouldn’t be going like this, without the meeting this morning being rescheduled. 

If everything had gone to plan, she can practically feel Richard’s reservation and acceptance of the end of their interactions. She almost thirsts for that simplicity, but it’s almost immediately replaced with the feeling she’d worked for nearly two years to suppress. Wonder.

That’s what he is, a modern wonder, she’d say ancient, but the youth in his actions toward her in recent months prevents this. She’s clutching his hand for dear life as his face begins to contort in heartbreak from her silence. “Richard, I-” But it’s too late, Richard is beginning to stand, his hand trying to free himself from her death grip.

“I love you.” She hears one of her interns scream negatively in the back of her mind. She knows it’s a leap, but she’s ready, and she is sure she knows his reply. Richard is frozen, bar his fall back onto the bed beside her. Embarrassment is clear on his face as she shifts her hips back and forth. They’ve been extremely close for upwards of a year now, but they’d never fully crossed the the line into romance. Deep friendship, and passing glances yes, but Alex respected her career way to much to lose her credibility. 

But it’s clear, at least to herself, that this case has ruined her. With good reason, too many people have died, or been found without being wanted too. She regrets finding Coralee, especially right now, it’s the kind of regret that makes her want to abandon all hope and the man sitting beside her. Too late is an understatement for that one, though.

Strand is impossibly still beside her. 

Maybe she misread, but then she remembers his speech to her, and she regains her patience. Waiting for an answer. She wonders, what Strand is thinking so hard about.

RICHARD:

Alex has said the three words of no return.

A lot quicker than he was expecting. 

Those three words used to carry such a meaning to him that hearing them again sent him into a turbulent mental battle. Coralee. Does he love Coralee anymore?

No. It’s a quick deadly thought that could kill him where he sits. But it doesn’t, it almost frees him. He feels his lips tug up at the corners as a breath of relief leaves him. 

Does he love Alex?

Absolutely. The real question he should be asking, is can his heart take the wonder of a woman beside him. What can he offer her? Stability, maybe, but definitely not much else. 

So, he slowly turns to face her, pulling her other hand between them so that he is holding both of them. 

“Alex. There is no doubt in my mind that you just spoke directly from your heart. And before I do,” a quick intake of break fills his lungs, “I want to discuss this with you further.” Her eyes are curious, but they remain undisturbed by negative emotions. This is trust, she is trusting him with her emotions, here and now. Be careful, he reminds himself, as they are both extremely fragile in this moment. 

“Okay, what do you want to discuss?” She knows exactly what is coming, there is no way that she doesn’t. Richard knows that Alex has already most likely answered all of the questions he has for her, and so he prepares answers for ones that she will have as well. 

Questions about his age, his career, her career, are all answered with elegance he hadn’t expected. But it isn’t until he asks her about Coralee that they hit a break in this comfortable discussion. It is then, that pain enters her face, he’s prepared for this the entire conversation.

Richards hands slowly move to cup either side of her face, and a shocking sentence leaves his lips. “I’ve never loved anyone romantically as much as I love you, Alex Reagan.” And with one sentence, the discussion is over. But a new adventure begins, just as his lips cover hers gently, with the passion of a thousand lovers. 

Alex and Strand are still in the clothes they were in the night before. Only now both of their phones are a symphony together. Nic and Ruby, no doubt wondering the results of their meeting. Ruby’s disdain for Alex has worn off over the months, and Nic was caught making bets on the status of “Streagan” as the interns call it. Neither answer at first, entirely wrapped up in their newly declared love, and each others arms. A kiss and nights sleep repairing their sanity for at least one night.

But once they answer, Alex screams with joy. Private investigators hired by a podcast fan have dug up enough evidence of wrong doings by Thomas Warren, and all his conspirators, including Percival Black, Coralee Strand, several branches of monk orders in the country, and plenty out of the country. There is a mass takedown of what they’re calling the “largest human trafficking network” in modern history. They’ve given Alex the credit.

Strand doesn’t even get to speak to Ruby before he is transferred to a call with his daughter. She is sobbing and apologizing to her father for everything that has happened. Immediately, he accepts her apology, tears blossoming at the edges of his eyes, with a happiness that hasn’t left him this warm in a decade. 

They each end their respective phone calls, and spin to each other, demons of the night before entirely forgotten. It takes them a few minutes, but they both get their good news out. Alex starts to get out of bed, and puts too much weight on her foot. She tumbles back to bed with a startled squeak. Strand pulls her into his arms and retucks them into bed. With a few kisses pressed to her forehead, exhaustion steals Alex away to her first real sleep in months, and Strand follows quickly behind her. Eight hours of sleep is an easy record to break, and they do it.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t meant to be entirely timeline cohesive. The exact order of time in the podcast has been unfortunately lost to me with each new thing I read or write, so please excuse that. This the first thing that I’ve written of this magnitude in a long time. I had a burning desire to write an Alcoholic!Strand and SelfHarm!Alex I just felt like those particular demons could happen. I feel like if we knew them both better we’d find some sort of ailments like this in the real world. This fic DEFINITELY pulls some inspiration from the following songs I pretty much looped while writing it. “Sober Up” -AJR, “Everybody’s Lonely” -Jukebox The Ghost, and “Our Own House” - MisterWives. I have other streagan, Black Tapes stuff written. I made an Archive of Our Own account specifically for this fandom. I'll probably post it !


End file.
